


Drunken Shenanigans

by youareaprogram



Series: Mass Effect Prompts [4]
Category: Mass Effect - All Media Types, Mass Effect: Andromeda
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-07
Updated: 2017-07-07
Packaged: 2018-11-29 04:28:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11433174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/youareaprogram/pseuds/youareaprogram
Summary: Prompt for Gil Week on tumblr (thanks to the person who gave me this prompt!). Ryder goes to see Gil, goes to kiss, and then nearly destroys the ship.





	Drunken Shenanigans

**Author's Note:**

> Expect bad writing and alcohol-influenced spelling mistakes ooops  
> (Also if anyone is wanting to know what Arcade looks like: https://you-are-a-program.tumblr.com/AndromedaOCs)

The steady-hum of the engine room always put Gil at ease. Something about the background noise he found soothing; something to help ground him whenever he had yet another sleepless night. Even the low blue lights, which pulsated in rhythm with the drive core’s mechanisms, calmed him. Lexi told him in, one of her sessions he was strong-armed into attending by a tag-team of Ryder, Vetra and Suvi, that blue lights were thought to aid relaxation, something he apparently had ‘difficulties’ with.

 

Lexi had used too much jargon for Gil’s liking of course. Something about ‘facilitating para-sympathetic nervous system activation,’ or some other combination of words she seemingly picked out randomly out from a thesaurus. Not that Gil doubted Lexi’s competence or intelligence, she was clearly skilled, just that she seemed very ‘by the book’. He supposed medicine wasn’t something you could wing, unlike working with an engine core.

 

Ryder – _Arcade_ he corrected himself – would beg to differ of course. Usually with a pained look across his face as Gil, sandwich in his left hand, entered the crawlspace in the engine room and pulled out a combination of wires, bolts and conduits before he threw them to the floor with a harsh metallic clang. 

 

“Couldn’t you at least finish your food first?” Arcade had asked once.

Gil grinned from within the crawlspace entrance back at Arcade as he fit the whole sandwich into his mouth in one bite, chewing merrily to himself as he proceeded to pull out more of the exposed wiring he deemed necessary for replacement. It wasn’t essential for replacement, Gil just figured it could give them an edge in a tight squeeze, of which they’d been in too many even for him as of late.

 

Now there was a thought he didn’t want to linger on; their very likely fate of being killed, enslaved or transformed by the Kett. Perhaps all of the above, in that order if they were very lucky.

 

Pushing that thought from himself, he continued his late-night ministrations to the engine core’s console.

 

_Was it late or early?_

 

“SAM, what time in the 24 cycle are we?”

 

No reply.

 

That was odd. Usually the AI was eager to inform anyone who would listen of the slightest point of interest.

 

_Pathfinder, the temperature is dropping._

_Pathfinder, we are in danger._

_Pathfinder, water is wet._

Gil called out again, this time a little louder, in case Suvi was using SAM to analyse some Heleus findings and he was at capacity.

 

Still no reply.

 

Typing into his omni-tool, Gil began to call Arcade.

 

“Hey Ryder. Is…”

 

Gil’s call was echoed outside the engine room. Gil turned his head and could see Ryder standing just outside the large window overlooking the Nomad.

 

“Hi.” Arcade said, his voice muted by the thick glass.

 

“Hey yourself Ryder.”

 

Arcade opened to door with his omni-tool, fumbling with the holographic buttons slightly.

 

“So,” Gil began, “SAM out for you too?”

 

Arcade looked at Gil a little confused before he shook his head.

 

“Nah. I mean yeah. I mean I switched him to personal mode,” Arcade finally settled on.

 

“I see.”

Arcade looked a little quizzical then irritated.

 

“Yes I turn him off when I go to the toilet and yes I left him on one time and no we don’t ever talk about that ever again do we SAM?”

 

“No Pathfinder.”

 

“I literally did not need to know any of that. But thanks for sharing I guess,” Gil said turning his back to Arcade as he finished off some of the calibrations to the core that he was in the middle of.

 

Arcade walked over to Gil’s side as he continued to work.

 

“So,” he asked delicately, “what are you working on?”

 

“Just some calibrations to the engine. Some little tweaks I’ve been thinking of that should give us an edge against the Kett.”

 

“Ah. Good.” Arcade replied, his unsatisfied tone belying his words.

 

“Something wrong?” Gil asked.

 

“No nothing’s wrong I just,” Arcade let out a deep sigh. “Do you want a drink?”

 

Gil looked thoughtfully, and then typed quickly into the holographic interface before shutting down his workstation.

 

“There, should be all done now. What are we drinking then?”

 

“Vetra managed to get her hands on some liquor from the Nexus.” Arcade paused thoughtfully for a few moments. “Or her talons. Whatever. It’s vodka, flavoured by some asari fruit or something but I can’t remember what she said.”

 

“Sounds good. You get the bottle, I’ll go get some glasses from the galley.”

A few moments later, Arcade and Gil were drunkenly sprawled out on the engine room floor, a bottle of vodka between them, with only the pulsating blue light of the drive core lighting the room.

 

“So, what is Gil short for?”

 

_The dreaded question._

“It’s not short for anything. My name is just Gil,” he lied.

 

“Sure.”

 

Arcade brought his omni-tool and released the privacy settings he had enabled.

 

“SAM could you give me the full name of crewmate Gil Brodie.”

 

“You little shit!” Gil said, laughing as he attempted to swat the omni-tool out of Arcade’s hands. Arcade, pulled his arm away from Gil and held it over and behind Gil’s head.

 

“Gil Brodie, officially known to the Initiative as…”

 

“SAM cancel that! Don’t you dare!”

 

Arcade snort-laughed, his omni-tool arm still held out behind Gil’s head. Gil looked down at the younger man and licked his lips instinctively. Gil could smell the alcohol on his breath, their faces almost close to touching.

Arcade gulped.

 

Gil moved first; his hands suddenly on either side of Arcade’s face, his lips pushing back against Arcades, forcefully but softly.

 

Arcade moaned into the kiss, the vibration sending a tickling sensation across Gil’s lips. Arcade’s hands grasped and strained against the back of Gil’s neck; his fingers stroking through Gil’s soft reddish hair.

Gil released a little of his grip on the man beneath him, gasping in between breath on breath, as his lips left Arcade’s.

 

But Arcade wasn’t done with him just yet.

 

Emboldened by the alcohol, made fearless by the vodka, Arcade pushed Gil’s back onto the console behind them. A little too hard, if Gil had to admit, but he was touch-drunk from Arcade’s closeness.

And also, normal drunk.

But he didn’t care. Not really. He felt alive.

 

That was at least until Arcade slammed his head into the drive core panel. Hard.

 

Gil yelped in shock and pain, Arcade’s face plastered with regret.

 

“Shit! Sorry, sorry!” He busied himself with a litany of apologies.

 

“It’s fine, it’s fine,” Gil replied, rubbing his head. The alcohol deadened the blow to his head but he knew he was going to feel it in the morning.

 

Blood-red lights sirened across the engine room, spilled out into the hangar bay.

 

“That’s not good.” Arcade said, a comment that was surprisingly insightful given his heavily inebriated state.

 

“Warning. Engine core levels at maximum capacity. Disperse drive core.” The automated warning message spat out through the Tempest’s speakers.

 

“Shit, shit, shit!” Gil chanted, a vulgar prayer as he tried to correct the, potentially lethal, problem he and Arcade had caused.

 

Sobering up, Gil typed furiously into the console. After a few minutes, and more than 50 different swear words by Arcade’s count, the warnings ceased; the crisis averted.

 

Both men breathed heavily as they both lay upon the floor of the engine room, the threat very narrowly avoided.

 

Catching his breath, Arcade looked over at Gil.

 

“So, what is Gil really short for?”

 

Gil sighed.


End file.
